A Fool's Mistake
by PhoenixLament611
Summary: The untold story of Dumbledore's mistakes as a young adult and as an old man, as seen by Harry through the Pensieve. The high rating is just to be safe because I'm not sure yet how in depth I may go in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: I own nothing, all characters and themes are the property of the brilliant mind of JK Rowling. I wrote this story as a final for my freshman seminar class which was called 'The Phenomenon of Harry Potter.' It was a brilliant class and, no we didn't just sit around and discuss HP all day! The story is based mostly off of my rough draft, but I will be extending it for creative reasons, so updates should come about once a week. Bear with me, this is only the setup chapter. Later chapters will be lengthier._

**A Fool's Mistake: Ch. 1**

"Mr. Potter, I trust you would be better suited to continue this alone," sounded the taut voice of Minerva McGonagall, easing the sullen silence. Harry could hear a slightly more broken quality threatening to escape from behind the deliberate control she usually upheld and felt a pang of the familiar feeling himself.

"Er…yes, I suppose I can get on without you," Harry replied setting down the massive volume in his hand rather vicariously atop its fellows.

"Well then," McGonagall moved toward Harry rather hastily and then paused, stretching her right arm toward Harry to place an aged hand on his shoulder consolingly. She patted it hesitantly and gave a stiff yet weathered nod before shifting her direction and walking briskly from the room.

Harry gazed around the office filled with brown paper boxes containing the discarded textbooks, trinkets, magical relics, and personal belongings of the man he knew so little about. Harry could not easily admit to himself that he knew next to nothing of Dumbledore's long life. It was a painful notion that had occurred to him only now that it was too late to speak to the man in question. A small empty perch near the old wooden desk seemed to leave a hole in the room in the absence of its owner. Fawkes had disappeared as soon as the funeral had ended, and his lack of presence was felt almost as much as that of his companion. Harry knew that with Dumbledore gone, there was no reason for Fawkes to stay; however, he would dearly miss the majestic fowl. Slowly the scores of books lining the walls gained Harry's attention again as he drifted out of his reverie.

Phineas Nigellus Black sat quite still in his frame, eyeing Harry impatiently, "Well, get on with it, boy. Staring at them all day won't make them move." Harry's ears were too trained to expect Phineas' voice shattering the silence with his commentary to be taken by surprise. Harry merely turned his head slightly in the portrait's direction in recognition and went to pick up more volumes from the shelves of his former mentor. As he moved closer to a copy of 'Magic: A Malady to Muggles,' the light from the high vaulted windows caught on a familiar silvery sheen and Harry, distracted, changed course.

Moving with a sudden fervor, Harry took in the sight of the pensieve, which sat in its usual spot, in the cupboard by the door. The small cupboard door hung open ever so slightly and it seemed silly to Harry that after all this time, Dumbledore still couldn't manage to properly enclose it. Harry knelt low on the floor and pushed the cupboard door aside to reveal a mass of silvery liquid swirling gently in a stone basin. This bowl was the only thing in the world that could give reason to the seemingly random actions of a man that few people truly knew. Harry, himself felt he knew the bearded, twinkle-eyed man better than most, but parts of his life were still shrouded in shadows. It was so strange that such a glossy evasive substance could be the key to grasping at the truth of Dumbledore's long existence.

Swiftly and without a second thought, Harry grasped the sides of the basin and set it out in front of him, dipping his head down low toward it. The tip of his nose just barely had the opportunity to dip into the surface of the liquid glass before he was pulled, headfirst, into a distant thought: long-abandoned.

_A/N: Let me know what you think! This is my very first post on , though I've been reading stories for years, so be kind. I do, however, like constructive criticism. Thanks folks! More to come next week, and I promise the next one will be longer and have more meat to it._


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: Again I do not own anything pertaining to JK Rowling's beautiful writing._

**Ch. 2**

Harry looked around before him, the scene around him only a haze in comparison to the true Hogwarts. Harry stumbled around lamely for a couple moments, not knowing what to search for when he spotted his man. There he was, the man Harry had been so eager to see. A man whose loss he'd only just begun to mourn: standing before him once more, though quite a bit younger. Dumbledore reached up to allow his large grey owl a perch. As the bird settled its feather and left its leg outstretched, a young Albus Dumbledore unraveled the parchment from it. He proceeded to gather his other belongings and remove himself from the bench of Gryffindor table. Harry watched as the young, presumed seventeen-year-old, judging by his 'Head Boy' badge, made his way toward the Great Hall. He seemed to have a kind of seriousness about him that didn't quite coincide with the more mature Dumbledore. Harry noticed that the faded memory of the boy before him held no twinkle in his eye, as if life had been too-early drained from him.

Young Albus strode through the Great Hall, up the stairs to a small secluded window where he let his belongings fall to the ground with a muffled 'thump' and slumped down beside them. There Harry watched the man unfold his parchment with only mild anticipation gracing Albus' features. Upon its reveal, Albus' face fell slightly. As he read on, it fell even more so, until his mild grimace became a very deep frown that drew creases around his eyes and on his forehead until he began to resemble the professor that Harry knew him to be. Harry curiously peered over Albus' shoulder, but could see nothing.

Finally, after studying the letter over several times, Albus set it beside him and reached toward his shoulder bag to retrieve some spare parchment and a quill. As he wrote fervently, Harry took his chance to read the letter:

_**Albus,**_

_**I regret to inform you that your dear mother, Kendra, has recently fallen victim to an unfortunate accident leading to her death. It is not clear what exactly transpired around the time of her death, however, due to the fact that your father is detained, Ariana is quite without anyone to look after her, I would request that you return home immediately to take charge of her, though I may offer my services as a nanny for a short time. I offer you my deepest sympathies and dearly hope that you may return home safely. **_

_**Yours, **_

_**Bathilda Bagshot**_

Harry stared blankly at the open parchment, not clearly comprehending the event that was transpiring before him. Before he truly had time to register the look of resentment, rather than remorse that stole across Dumbledore's face, the scene in which Harry stood dissolved around him to be abruptly replaced with a new setting.

Harry appeared to have been transported to a small foyer that arched into a larger sitting room where two young men were arguing. The one speaking appeared to be the more familiar to Harry, and the other seemed to resemble someone he had seen before.

"There is no reason why you should be staying home and neglecting your studies. Enough people in this family have brought shame to the name Dumbledore," the man with the unusually hard expression said forcefully. It was young Albus again. Harry was taken aback by the resentment that appeared to shine in his eyes rather than his usual knowing twinkle. This Dumbledore still had more presence as a wizard than most Harry had ever met, even as a young man, but he lacked an awareness of his surroundings that seemed, to Harry, to be synonymous with him.

"My studies aren't important to me. There's more to my life than books, Albus. She needs me, You may as well not even be here for all the care you give her! She would listen to me. She would eat for me." A slightly shorter man stood a few feet away from Albus, his face full of malice toward him. Harry slowly began to recognize him for the whispy-haired bartender to the Hog's Head, though several decades younger himself. In fact, the man appeared to be younger than Albus and now that Harry pulled his attention slightly away from the Dumbledore he couldn't reconcile, he noticed the shining eyes that resembled Harry's Dumbledore and realized this man must be his brother.

"The great Albus Dumbledore doesn't have time for those of us who aren't quite proficient in the art of magic. Never mind his weak and dying sister who has no one else in the world. I should be home with her. I should be here instead of you. I should be here to see that she at least eats," a furious by desperate retort.

"If Ariana can't find it in herself to make some effort, then perhaps she deserves not to."

"Not to what, to eat?"

"It's not as if she can't," Albus said dismissively, "She just refuses to, to spite me. She knows I'd rather be anywhere else but here and so she makes my job as difficult as she can."

"Look at you, talking about her as if she has her wits about her. She can't very well control herself with the little compassion you seem to show her! Perhaps it would be easier on your tired soul if she just passed like mother so you can just forget your name altogether and run off with that spineless git of a man, Grindewald!"

That seemed to have an effect on Albus. He had twitched faintly but visibly at the accusation. His face was suddenly filled with guilt, and he resembled again a Dumbledore that Harry knew. He was not unlike the Dumbledore he had seen in his office the night that Sirius had died and he had failed to keep Harry out of danger. He seemed so stung by the former statement that it took him and unusual amount of time to form a coherent thought aloud.

"Aberforth..you can't think.. You don't think I'd wish that at all, do you? Ariana, I meant no harm to her. She, well, she's just more trouble.."

"..than she's worth?"

"That's not what I meant. You know I care for her. I could never wish her to such a fate. I only meant that she is deliberately hurting herself and- if I thought I could do more for her by staying..I.." Albus paused seeming to sense a third presence in the room. At first, Harry gave a start, thinking Dumbledore had somehow transcended time and even death and had noticed Harry standing there, struck dumb by this new Dumbledore he had never known existed. Then, from around the foyer archway, Harry saw a small auburn-haired girl peer at her brothers.

She was slightly disheveled and looked only half aware of her surroundings somehow. She looked as if she had aged wrong, faster than she could manage, which gave her fragile frame a mildly hunched look. Dumbledore's face stiffened at her appearance in the room as he turned from Aberforth to look at her. Aberforth seemed unmoved by Albus' weak attempt to show compassion and still wore a bitter frown that lightened slightly at the site of Ariana. He moved toward her in what seemed to be a warm gesture of comfort when a knock came from the front door, and she hid herself again behind the wall.

Immediately, Albus gathered himself up, doing his best to discard his painful aged look for a more welcoming one, which only resulted in him looking slightly wary, and went to the door. As the door opened, Harry caught sight of a man decidedly shorter than Albus, though at the moment looking strangely more assured. It was unnatural to see anyone more self assured than Dumbledore, as if he was weakened by the man somehow. Albus smiled expectantly as if the man had come to save him.

"Hello Albus. I couldn't help noticing the raised voices coming from your home," a calm and penetrating voice sent chills down Harry's spine. It bore resemblance to a cold taunting voice he knew too well. Harry could tell who the man must be, from the former conversation and the look of pure hate upon Aberforth's face. This must be the wizard Grindewald, but Harry could not fathom the look on Albus's face as the man invited himself through the front door discretely.

"You're not welcome here," Aberforth demanded.

_A/N: I know it's been quite a while since I've posted. I hope that anyone actually reading this is enjoying it. Thank you so much to **Belladonna Dumbledore** for the support! Sorry that it took me so long to continue...I'm a college student :/ Anyhow, stay tuned for Ch. 3 coming within a much more reasonable time span!_


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